


Missing Sameen

by confusednerdling



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: F/F, Implied/Referenced Suicide, root is a sad puppy, shaw is missing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-24
Updated: 2016-04-24
Packaged: 2018-06-04 05:23:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6643045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/confusednerdling/pseuds/confusednerdling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“You found her…?”</i>
</p><p>  <i>“Their apartment. Root was just starting out the window,” Root could hear the worry come off his voice from the subway car. “She was shaking. Badly. And pale. I don't think she's eaten or slept in ages. Though, the troubling thing is…”</i></p><p>  <i>“What, Mr. Reese?”</i></p><p>  <i>“She has a cork board of Decima agents on her wall with Xs and notes… She's going to get herself killed, Finch,”</i></p><p>  <i>“It could very well be post traumatic distress disorder,” </i></p><p>  <i>“Shaw told me Root was a bit of an Eeyore sometimes - her words. Maybe, she's got depression or something,”</i></p><p>  <i>“Regardless of what we think, Miss Groves requires immediate assistance. I fear we have ignored her behavior for far too long. Please, Mr. Reese, I'm going to need you to call Dr. Campbell. She's getting a new patient,” </i></p><p>OR: Root trying to save Sameen from Samaritan and Finch, Reese, and Fusco trying to save Root from herself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Missing Sameen

**Author's Note:**

> I'm having a lot of feels. I blame the trailers. So I wrote this piece to cope.

Root used to think that she’s a good person. At least, she was. Now, things were foggy again.

When Root first started working for Her, the Machine, she was still mumbling about bad code. Her hand always jerked, aiming for center mass. Her urge to torture to get answers faster for her questions always remained at the back of her mind. She listened to Finch spew ramblings of how she had to “treat people better” and part of her wanted to snap at him and remind him how he locked her away where they numbed her on pills, but she always managed to hold it back. 

Then, she lost her ear and the world got a lot quieter. It was a cruel awakening of how human she was. A simple scalpel was her downfall. Well, a scalpel and a ton of needles. (She cringed just thinking about it and raised her left hand to check her pulse instinctively.)

Yet, in the beginning, she came to a simple realization. To care for humanity, you must first care for a person. That one person for Root turned out to be a compact sociopath. 

( _“Root, what the Hell?” A deep voice snapped in the darkness. As the lights flickered on, Shaw’s scowl softened ever so slightly as her eyes widened, taking in Root’s appearance. It was such a subtle change and had Root blinked, she would have missed it._

_The taller woman tried to smile, but it contorted into a grimace. “Sweetie, I need some…” She pointed to the blood running down her neck and staining her skin crimson. “...help,”_

_Shaw took a step forward, assessing her silently._

_“So tell it to me straight, doc? What’s wrong?”_

_She rolled her eyes, grumpily. “You’re an idiot,”_ )

The relationship was a strange one. Ever since Root read the damn file, she realized maybe there was exception to bad code. They started off as enemies, then people with benefit, then friends with benefits, and somehow along the way, they ended up practically living with one another. 

By the time Sameen Shaw is kissing her and throwing her back into the elevator, they had been legitimately dating for four months. (Root still lives in their apartment. She tried to keep it exactly as it was, but the apartment, instead of being a cozy and warm, became lonely and cold and messy.)

It only made sense that when Root lost the person who made her realize the potential of humanity, that she lost it a whirlwind of grief, rage, and sadness. 

The Machine certainly did not like that. 

Except The Machine couldn’t complain, because She was gone too. 

Root was alone like she had once been. Funny how she would have loved that before.

\---

“Miss Groves,”

“Harry,” A wide smile spread across her face, but it didn’t reach her eyes. It never did anymore. It quickly disappeared the moment his eyes shot back to his screens. 

Harold Finch, the creator of God, looked so small these days. He was currently enthused by something on his computer screens. For a split second, she let hope blossom within her as her lips moved to say the word “Sameen?” , but Finch cut her off before the word left her lips. 

“We’re ready for a test run, Miss Groves!”

Root’s brown eyes sparked with something that had not been there in a while. “A… You don’t mean…?” Her smile widened with excitement. 

“The Machine, Miss Groves. I believe it is nearly operational. I would like to perform a test run if you don’t mind,” Finch pushed his classes up his nose and nervously glanced at her. “A test to see how well it communicates. Would you - “

“Of course, Harry. You know I’d do anything for Her,” She sat down on the chair beside him and crossed her long legs before she smirked slightly. “You ready to awaken God?”

Finch said nothing and began jamming the keys on his computer at a quick speed. He whipped his head to face Root, looking for any change on her face to indicate it working, but seeing nothing caused him to frown and return his attention to the screen. 

A stilted voice found itself in her ear. 

_Can you hear me?_

“Y-Yes,” Root ignored the tears that fell down his face. “Harry, I can hear her!” She pointed to her ear and let out a loud, genuine, nervous chuckle. 

_Analog Interface heart rate has increased. Is the Interface injured, in danger, or in any level of pain?_

“No, I’m alright. I’m just...nervous,” she let out another string of laughter. By Finch’s odd glance, he was surely questioning her sanity - which he always had been - and wondered if having her for the test run was a good decision. It was a necessary one though. 

_Does Analog Interface enjoy the voice?_

Root pondered it for a moment. The Machine has always spoken to her in somewhat robotic voice and now there was a window for options? Her mind wandered at the possibilities… (Morgan Freeman would be a very fun option. Or perhaps a singer… Maybe a beautiful actress…)

_Does Analog Interface enjoy this voice?_

It was no longer a robotic voice, but instead, the voice of a young girl with the same perkiness Root recalled from her past, and now, her nightmares.

The hacker sprung to her feet, visibility paling. “Stop. I don’t like this,” Finch jumped as she did, noticing something was wrong with big eyes. He remained frozen, watching her in shock. Never had he heard Root sound so...scared. (Although, one moment came to mind…) “You can’t… She’s dead. You can’t…” She rocked gently.

“Miss Groves, are you alright?” he asked, a look of concern clear on her face. 

_Does Analog Interface enjoy this voice?_

“NO! Now, s-stop! Please! You’re dead! I mean, she’s dead… I can’t,” Tears spilled down her face. Her slender fingers shot to her ear and she dug her nails at her scar as sob echoed through the subway. “F-Finch, take it out. Take it out! Make it stop,”

_Does Analog Interface enjoy this voice?_

“STOP USING HANNA’S VOICE!” 

_Does Analog Interface prefer this voice?_

She froze - blood dripping from her ear, rolling down her long neck. She kept her fingers there, still in her own flesh. “...Sameen…? That’s her voice…” She took a deep breath and shook her head gently. “But it’s not her, is it?” She scratched her scar that was now raw repeatedly. “The Machine. It’s not her. It’s not her. It’s not her,” she whispered to herself as Sameen’s voice sounded in her ear. 

It had been so long since she heard it. She didn’t know how to feel. Hannah’s voice brought back the nightmares and the memories of Bishop and bad code. Hannah was so tied to the guilt Root held inside her. Shaw’s voice, however, was something she had missed dearly. She would wake and try to remember it as she laid in the bed they used to share. She’d say jokes to herself, even when there was no one around, and try to imagine Shaw’s reaction to it. (Reese one time had witnessed her doing this. She had imagined Shaw doing one of her classic scowls. The very image caused her to erupt with high-pitched laughter and then the laughter evolved into weeping. There was no doubt in Root’s mind that Reese reported the situation to Finch which explained his reaction to her saying Sameen’s name.) He quickly began typing on his computers with determination.

Root couldn’t focus on him though. She was waiting to hear Sameen’s voice again in her ear. She let out another sob, but muffled it with a palm pressed against her mouth. She wearily paused, awaiting noise, but there was only silence in her ear. 

“Miss Groves….?”

She turned to the man who was staring at her intently to see if she was alright. Her hands dropped to her side - her black nails painted in her own blood.

“Are you alright, Miss Groves?”

“It’s Root,” she whispered. Her brown eyes were only focused on her nails and the droplets of blood that clung to them.

“Sorry? I didn’t hear - “

The emptiness in her eyes turned to anger. “It’s _Root_ , Harold,” she snapped. With that, she stormed out. 

She didn’t seem Finch for two weeks after that. 

\---

The defiant Decima agent stared at her with wild eyes. 

“ _Where is Shaw_?!” She had lost count of how many times she had asked that question. She had lost count of how many times she plunged her taser into the man’s chest and watched him shriek and holler. 

The man stared at her with a mock blank expression and smirked as she grunted with frustration. 

She was getting sick of these guys. They never talked no matter how many times she brought her taser to their chest. This was her...Was it sixth agent? Or ninth? Things were getting blurred in her head and the lack of sleep wasn’t helping. 

She cocked her gun and moved the barrell to his heart and looked him in the eyes. “I know that when an accident happens your families get the insurance policies, but if you’re captured, it disappears…” She took a deep breath. “You’re family will get that money if you give me something. Anything,” 

She waited patiently, but the agent shook his head. 

She pulled the trigger, cringed at the sound that echoed throughout the warehouse, and watched the light goes out in his eyes. 

She looked at the gun at her hand, focusing on it rather than the blood. Some nights she pushed the barrel against her chest and wondered how it must feel, wondered how it must have felt for Shaw. Root had been shot plenty of times, but sometimes she wondered how the bullet in the brain would feel or right through the heart. And then there were other nights, where she was much more interested in putting a bullet through someone rather than herself. 

Tonight happened to be one of those nights.

\---

“I’m fine,” she insisted, plastering a fake smile on. She didn’t know why she was lying to Finch, a man she considered family. She figured it was because she knew they were suffering in their own way - Reese took to numbers and knee-capping morons who deserved it while Finch became more obsessed by the notion of safety. He was constantly behind his screens, checking up on them through the communication lines. 

“Miss Groves, you certainly are not. I watched the entire footage. You had ample time to escape and yet you stared at the shooter with eerily blank expression rather than apprehend or fight back,”

“He missed my chest,” was all she could say. 

Finch took a deep breath. “I’ll take you home. Tomorrow, Reese will come and check up on you. Do you still live - “

“The safe house was not a style,” she interjected, hopping off his desk. Pain flared in her shoulder, but she fought through it determinedly. She sauntered toward the exit before pausing, pivoting on her back leg, and staring challengingly at him like a bratty teen. “And you should know, despite your rude opinions, I still live at our apartment,” 

Finch said nothing.

\---

Reese brought her to their diner quickly after. 

“You don’t look too good,” he grumbled. “I’ll pay,” The offer did not go unnoticed, but Root didn’t have an appetite these days.

She sat down in the booth somberly, ordered pancakes, and placed it beside her in case her ghost was hungry

\---

When Root was following leads on Shaw or running a number that Reese allowed her to help on, she would be at the apartment. 

Where a painting once remained, now there was a cork board with pictures of Decima agents. Some had black Xs over their faces or sticky notes with information The Machine once revealed and in some, a knife remained. (She had to take the painting down, unfortunately, because she accidentally got some blood on it. Shaw would not have been pleased. After all, it was a Sameen Shaw original - Root sobbed, gripping her bleeding side at being so clumsy to bump into it in the darkness. She vowed to get Shaw some new art materials. The cork board couldn’t stay there forever.)

Without The Machine, Root was quite impressed by what she was able to assemble on her lonesome, but, then again, she was always resourceful and quick. Genius, even. 

( _“Root, I get that you’re some type of genius or something and you gotta exercise your mind like I exercise my body, but if I have to watch another documentary again about some boring ass mathematician, I’ll kill you,”_

_“Oh, sweetie,” Root laughed, nudging Shaw slightly. “You care about me too much to lose me._

_Shaw didn’t saw anything, but her eyes narrowed slightly. “Fine,” She rubbed the bridge of her nose with an irritated expression. “We can watch your dumb movie. But you’re getting me popcorn and the good stuff too. Not that crap you like. That low salt stuff. I want butter and salt and an entire bowl just for me,” She looked the tall woman over. “You can have an apple or something,”_ )

Every night, she’d stare at the faces. Soon, they'd know what real pain is. For every mark and touch they place on Sameen, she’ll give two more for them. She didn't care if she became a monster in the process. She didn't care if thoughts of bad code were starting to come back. Because little beastliness never hurt nobody. Well, nobody except Root.

(This is justice, she rationalized one night. She's getting rid of the bad code. She's helping. For every person she kills or hurts, it's one less person hurting Shaw. So what if in the end she has a hard time looking at herself in the mirror or, Hell, even recognizing the person staring back. It was worth it. For Shaw, Root realized, everything and anything was worth it.)

Sometimes, she'd have to postpone one of her self-made missions. because she was shaking too much or she had forgotten to eat and the dizziness overtook her. Most of time, it was because she was trapped in the madness that was the inside of her own head. She was trapped starting out a window, completely vulnerable, as memories replayed in her head on loop or fantasies of a life with Samaritan would overwhelm her. 

That was how Reese found her today - staring out a window in a black jeans and Sameen’s old hoodie. 

“Root? _Root_?!” He moved to place a hand on her shoulder and almost expected her to snap alert before he was able to, but Root remained perfectly still. She only turned when she felt his touch and when she did, it was ever so slowly as if she didn't care who was there - friend or foe.

“Root?”

She was paler than he had last remembered. 

“Have you eaten?”

She shook her head gently.

“Have you slept?”

Again, she shook her head. 

Reese took a deep breath. “C’mon, we’re getting out of here,”

She watches him for a long moment and realized slowly that he expected her to follow. “I can't leave,” she whispered. “I…”

“Root,” he looked at her with steely eyes. “Shaw would not have wanted this,” 

Those six words… 

He wasn’t wrong. Shaw would have hated this. She would have threatened to kick Root’s sorry ass or pull her by hair. She would glare at her with eyes that could scare just about anyone (except Root, of course. She happened to be immune.) and she would call her “Eeyore” or tease her a bit to get a smile out. She would have done anything, because she would not have wanted this.

Root picked herself up and followed him without a single argument. 

\---

“You found her…?”

“Their apartment. Root was just starting out the window,” Root could hear the worry come off his voice from the subway car. “She was shaking. Badly. And pale. I don't think she's eaten or slept in ages. Though, the troubling thing is…”

“What, Mr. Reese?”

“She has a cork board of Decima agents on her wall with Xs and notes… She's going to get herself killed, Finch,”

“It could very well be post traumatic distress disorder,” 

“Shaw told me Root was a bit of an Eeyore sometimes - her words. Maybe, she's got depression or something,”

“Regardless of what we think, Miss Groves requires immediate assistance. I fear we have ignored her behavior for far too long. Please, Mr. Reese, I'm going to need you to call Dr. Campbell. She's getting a new patient,” 

\---

( _Root launched awake, sweat dripping down her face. She suddenly realized her hands were wrapped around something tightly. Something...with a pulse. She drew her hands back to her chest._

_“Sweetie, I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean - “ Tears threatened to fall, but she knew it’d only make the smaller woman uncomfortable._

_“It’s okay,” Shaw’s form hovered over her. Apparently Shaw had to straddle her to keep her from twisting and jerking around. The small woman rolled over and fell on her side of the bed - the side of Root’s good ear._

_“What’d you dream about it?” Shaw asked quietly as if she was scared to intrude._

_“Bad code,”_

_“Again with this - “_

_“I dreamt of Bishop, Sameen… I’m not a good person. The things I did there… The things I have done to get rid of Samantha Groves. I’m bad code,”_

_Shaw drew quiet. Whatever insult she wanted to throw out, died on her lips. Instead, she moved, silently, closer to the other woman. Her muscular arms wrapped around her as Root turned her body. And the hacker grinned with delight. They were spooning. Actually spooning - something Shaw declared she’d never do._

_“Everyone is flawed, Root. Now, shut up and go to bed,” the Persian woman mumbled._

_“Okay, Sameen,”  
Root couldn’t though, because she was cuddling with Shaw. Cuddling. Spooning. It overwhelmed her with affection. This was real. Shaw was real._ )

When the nightmares came at night in the form of Shaw dying repeatedly before her, there was no one there to comfort her back to sleep and so Root just stayed awake, staring at the ceiling, and felt the ghost of arms around her. 

\---

Root sat on Iris’s couch with her legs crossed and her eyes narrowed as Iris began her first line of questioning.

( _“Shrinks are the absolute worst,” Shaw had said one night long ago while intoxicated. “I swear, they're always trying to get you to open. Not get better. Open. Sometimes, shit needs to stay closed,” She paused and took another long swig. Root could barely remember what they were celebrating or mourning. She could never be sure. “I had to see a shrink, you know? Parents thought I was…” Shaw mulled it over for a couple minutes, before she continued, “They loved me a lot, Root. I think...I think I loved them. At least, my version of love,” She was quiet for a bit, thinking things over. “You loved your parents?”_

 _“I had no parents to love...” she trailed off, speaking in soft tones. She watched Shaw - the way she seemed lost in a daze of alcohol and kissed her gently. “I don’t need anyone though, because I now have you,”_ ) 

“How are you, Robin?”

Root snapped upright. Her thoughts cleared and she smirked internally at the alias Finch had chosen. It was the same one given to her when she was sent to the funny farm. 

“I'm fine,” 

“Excuse me for saying this, but you don't look it,” Iris leaned forward. “Robin, you're here because your friend is worried about you. Any idea why?”

Root said nothing. She flexed her slender fingers. She suddenly needed to move. Her anxiousness made it hard to breathe or stand still. It was probably because always had the urge to type, to hide behind a computer screen. It was her way of dealing with nerves. Unfortunately, Iris’s computer was on her desk and away from reach. Without something to tinker with, her fingers twitched to a rhythmic beat - a fact Iris noticed and scribbled down in her notes. 

“Can answer a few of my questions for me?”

The hacker stared at her nails. “Alright,”

“What do you do?”

“IT department,” A fake smile fell into place. “I'm a bit of a nerd,”

Iris’s pen moved across the pad of paper before the next question even fell out of her mouth. “Are you happy?”

“I used to be,” Root glared at the woman with such anger as if she was daring Iris to say more.

“Have you thought of or attempted to kill yourself before?” She glanced up from her pad. “It’s routine, Robin. I need to understand what’s wrong so I can help,” 

Root closed her eyes tightly and when she opened, her cocky, challenging smirk was wider - making her appear almost deranged. “If walking across a ledge counts,”

Iris swallowed hard. “Why did you walk across a ledge?”

Root rubbed the bridge of her nose, annoyed by the questions, and she silently wished Reese wasn’t waiting on the other side of the door, awaiting a progress report from the doc. She concluded that she didn’t like therapy. Staring at Iris, she kept thinking back to her time when Finch had her committed. Therapy there wasn’t as dull, but maybe that was because The Machine was still around, murmuring commands when She could. 

Now She was both gone. She had failed Her. 

She had a habit of failing people - Hanna, her mother, The Machine, and, now, Shaw. 

“I don’t want to talk anymore,” Root blurted. Tears were already falling from her eyes. She fled the room with a second to waste, shoved past a brooding Reese, and headed home.

\---

(Sometimes she wished she fell off that ledge. It would have been easier. Not just for her, but for everyone. It would have been better.)

\---

Root walked into the subway looking worse for wear. Bags had formed under her eyes from a lack of sleep, she was entirely too jumpy to look particularly sane, and her eyes were still red from the tears she had shed in the bathroom shower. 

Finch gazed at her as she sat beside him with a laptop. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asked gently. 

“No, I’m here to work,” she replied curtly. She turned to the briefcase on the desk. “We’re getting her back even if it kills me,”

Finch silently wondered which “her” Root was referring to. 

\---

Visits to Dr. Campbell became biweekly after, during a mission, she shook so badly she accidentally shot the number in the foot. (The number sort of deserved it for whining so much, Root figured. Although, Finch wasn’t entirely happy when she told him that.)

Root figured she would resent it - talking to a complete strange about her deepest thoughts, but the truth of the matter was talking to someone about everything made Root feel...lighter. Her rage still remained. A rage that flickered on the moment someone spoke about Shaw or when she got word she was unallowed, by Finch, to purse any lead regarding Decima because that would lead to “uncertain death”. (She didn’t listen too much, but decided to spend her time gaining information for now thanks to her handy laptop. When Finch and Reese stopped babying her and watching her like they were her parents or concerned older siblings, she’d continue her rampage. Sometimes, that felt like it’d never happen.)

“Hey! Cocoa Puffs! You’re staring into space again,”

Root snapped awake. Her brown eyes widened. 

Fusco was staring at her with a look that was filled with concern, but he played it off as amusement. “Ya do that a lot nowadays. Still hearing voices in that head of yours?”

“Hm, in a manner of speaking,”

The cop rolled his eyes and returned his attention to the file he had been reading. “What are you even doing here? I swear you’re nutty, but this is - “ 

She cut him off quickly, staring at her chipped nail polish. “I’m waiting for Reese. He’s taking me to lunch,” she informed him in a very matter-of-fact voice. 

“Good ‘cause your skin and bones,” Fusco waited a moment before adding, “How are ya?”

She opened her mouth and for a moment she wasn’t to be honest, but the lie came bubbling out anyway. “I’m okay,”

“You sure?”

Her eyes stung slightly, but with a few blinks, the urge to cry vanished. Hastily, she used the art of mockery. “Aw, Fusco, you worried?” She leaned in slightly. Her ability to deflect questions was a great asset sometimes. “You know, I’d probably feel a lot better with some light reading,” Her slender fingers reaching for the file in his hand, but he put it out of her reach the instant he saw her inch closer.

“No!”

“C’mon. One peek,” she was almost begging. “I just want to know who it is,”

“No. Glasses said you’re benched cause you’re…” He didn’t dare finish the sentence. “I’m not letting you near this guy,”

Root slumped in her chair and looked over at the desk across from Fusco’s. “I’m bored,” Her attention went back to Fusco. He was studying her with a quizzical look on his face. She added sullenly, “I’ve got no one to play with. I had the Decima agents. Now, they were quite fun, but that didn’t last as I got…” The word “worse” threatened to fall from her lips. If Shaw could see her now, she probably wouldn’t enjoy this Root. This Root that trembled when she held a gun, because she remembered bullets flying into the love of her life every time she picked one up. This Root that spent her days moping and crying and curled up in a ball in bed all day. This Root that was directionless and so useless she couldn’t even find Shaw. All the cleverness, all the supposed genius, it was wasted on this Root, because she was useless to Shaw. She was useless to The Machine and to Finch. She couldn’t do anything.

Root realized she was staring off again and continued her original thought slowly, “I’m benched now. My...voice is gone,” She paused and forced a smile on to her lips that’s was so forced it made the man jump slightly. “Fusco, I need a new hobby. Preferably one that doesn’t tick off dear old Harry. He certainly didn’t approve of my last one...” 

Fusco thought for a moment before a large smile spread across his face. 

\---

Reese moved through the city of New York. He had plans with the hacker for lunch, but unfortunately, the number had been a bit harder than necessary. The soon-to-form bruise on his left cheek would prove it. 

He looked down at his phone as it buzzed to life.

I’m no longer at the police station. Currently at Fusco’s. (I’m getting a new hobby! Don’t worry. It won’t involve torture this time!) We still on for lunch? 

I’ll pick you up. (Don’t hurt Lionel. Or his kid. Please.)

Root quickly responded. 

Wow, such a gentleman. See you soon. (And I won’t touch a curl on his very round head, I promise you.)

What Root could possibly be doing with Fusco, Reese had no idea.

\---

He entered his partner’s apartment with little effort (since the door was very much unlocked) and walked in carefully. He found Root sitting on Fusco’s couch with a game controll and a set of headphones, designed for only one ear, on her head. 

She was currently playing some futuristic game that revolved around heavy violence, but her character only used an axe. She quite literally brought a knife to a gunfight.

“Root?”

“She can’t hear. Headphone is over her good ear. Girl is totally in the zone,” Fusco spoke up. He was sitting beside her, watching the screen with great interest. He looked up at Reese was silence ensued. 

“You introduced her to video games?!” The man in the suit snapped incredulously. Fusco was startled by how protective he sounded like he was her brother almost. The cop shook his hastily and jumped to defend himself.

“Technically, Looney Tunes loves video games, but some voice in her head made her stop. I dunno. Girl is crazy. Anyways, now that the voice is gone and… She’s got a lot of free time. This should fill it up,”

Reese exhaled loudly. “Finch isn’t going to like this,” He stepped over the toys scattered on the ground that belonged to Lionel’s son. He tapped her shoulder gently and watched as she looked at him. 

She removed her headphones quickly, tossing them aside. “John,” she noted. She pointed to the screen. “New hobby, you like?” She grabbed a spare controller beside her and offered it over as a sign of peace, but John merely shook his head. 

“We need to go,” he frowned slightly. 

“What? Scared little fun? It’s a game, John. Lighten up,” a dead smile attempted to reach her but it faltered quickly.

“Root, please. Finch needs to do another test run. You’re the only one able to communicate with - “

“One game, John. One game,” she jabbed him with controller almost playfully. 

“Are you scared of The Machine? I heard about what it did last time… How it copied Hanna and Shaw’s voices,” He ignored the way she visibly cringed and continued, “It’s not going to do that again. You and Finch fixed it. I clearly remember cause it was me that had take you home, because you were so exhausted you could barely stand,”

Root thought for a moment before gently shaking her head, clearly in denial. “I’m fine, John. She’s probably all good anyways, because, like you said, we fixed it,” Root looked at him pensively and clenched her fist beside her. She waited a moment, assessing how to properly continue the way The Machine would have for her, knowing fully well Finch’s guard dog didn’t believe her. “John, please. Just...Just let me stay here,” 

“You can’t avoid it forever,”

She stared at him questioningly. Her eyes challenged him to respond. “Avoid what?”

“Avoid the fact that _you are not alright_!” She sucked in a deep breath as his words smacked into her. Rage found her quicker than she figured. 

“I’m deaf in an ear! Not blind! I know I’m not alright!” She snapped, shoving him back. “But neither is Shaw and it’s because of me!” Her voice cracked with emotion. “It doesn’t matter, because I deserve it. _I deserve this pain for what I did to her_ ,” Tears fell from the corner of her eyes. 

“Root, you can’t punish yourself for - “

“I SHOULD HAVE BEEN THE ONE TO PUSH THAT DAMN BUTTON!” 

She slammed past Lionel and without a second thought, she walked out the door and left the two boys alone. 

\---

She sat in Iris’s office for a long time before the ginger woman came bumbling in, a giant smile on her face, and a coffee in hand. The woman stumbled in, turning the light on. She squeaked loudly and dropped her coffee the moment her eyes fell on Root who was sitting, with crossed legs, on her desk.

“R-Robin? W-What are you doing here?” She snatched the cup from the ground and made her way to a chair, motioning to the one in front of her for Root to sit, but the tall woman denied. She found it better to be on higher ground.

“Sorry for stopping in,” Root chuckled mirthlessly. She pushed a thick strand of dark hair behind her ear. “I got into a fight with your boyfriend. I was wondering if we could talk,”

“Why’d you guys fights?”

The hacker blinked, momentarily confused at why she was talking to a therapist in the first place. 

“He’s upset I haven’t spoken about my girlfriend,”

“What happened with her?”

Root almost wanted to lie, but she knew if she did she’d missing on the one chance to talk about Shaw. To share her pain and grief. To expel her rage and story. Her fake smile shattered into a grimace as memories flashed in her head. “My girlfriend...has gone missing,” Root admitted softly. She began chipping away at the polish, watching as black flakes fell. “I… It was my fault,”

Iris visibly stiffened. Her hand tightened around the now empty coffee cup. “How so?”

“I was at work and I called. I must have sounded distressed or something, but she ran over to see if I was alright. She got taken off the street. Police have no leads,”

Iris kept her mouth shut, watching Root with great interest. 

“My girlfriend… She has a personality disorder and the volumes of her emotions are turned down. The thing is, mine are turned on really high. I think it's because I used to force mine to be softer so I could go through the day, but… I know that even though the volume was down, it was still there - the noise, her love,” Root took a shallow breath. She felt as if she was going to cry. Iris must have noticed too, because she adjusted herself. “I miss her. I miss the noise,” 

\---  
She found herself sitting in the Faraday cage with her back against the metal and chin tucked to her chest, letting tears fall down her face. She hadn’t take her heart medicine in a while and so with every sob her heart crashed around her rib cage weakly and physically ached - a gift from Control. 

( _“Control did this?” Shaw mumbled, running a finger down Root’s neck as she examined the cut. “This mean your….”_

_“Deaf? In an ear? Yes,” Root shrugged. “I’m more concerned about my heart. How is it, doc?”_

_“It’s...weak,” Shaw frowned at this news. The worry in the other woman’s eyes was enough to make Root feel immediately guilty. She shouldn’t be here. She shouldn’t be here placing this unneeded worry on the woman._

_“Sameen, I’ll be fine,” she insited. “I just need - “ She stumbled and almost crashed into the hardwood floor, but the compact Persian caught her in time._

_“You need to rest now,”_

_“She’s got a safe house for me“_

_“Root, did you hear me correctly?” Shaw scowled, rubbing the bridge of her nose in irritation._

_Root chuckled softly. “Sort of deaf in an ear now, sweetie,”_

_“You need to rest_ now,” __

_Root smiled widely. She was never one to shy away from an opportunity. “You’re letting me sleep with you?” She chuckled softly. “I think you fixed my heart, because it’s certainly speeding up,”_

_“You sleep in my bed. I’ll be on the couch,” Shaw moved towards the living room before pausing slightly._

_Root shook her head violently, ignoring the sharp pain that dug into her chest. “No. No way am I kicking you out of your own bed,”_

_Shaw sighed, exasperated. “Fine. You can take the couch,”_

_“Now, now, I think there’s a better solution to this predicament that will leave both of us very satisfied,”_

_The other woman groaned loudly. “Fine! We’ll share the damn bed, but I swear to God - if you touch me or do any weird shit to me like tase me, I’ll end you,”_

_“End me all you want, Sameen,” She laughed whimsically before rushing to the bedroom._ )

She woke up in the cage and realized it was the first nightmare-less night since Shaw left. In a fog of grogginess, she instinctively looked around at her surrounding - the books, all colorful and dusty - absorbing every detail. But then her eyes fell to a familiar figure. 

Sitting on a chair was Harold Finch himself holding a tray of food.

“How’d you find me?”

“I had cameras installed here,” he admitted sheepishly. “It was a safety precaution. They activated when you entered the premise,” 

Root nodded numbly. 

He pushed the tray towards her. She smiled fondly, recalling a time where he did the exact same thing in the exact same place. With a single glance at her change in expression, it was clear Finch could tell exactly what she was thinking. That was something Root enjoyed about Harold. He always knew what she was saying in the silence. 

“I used to fear you, Miss Groves,” Finch told her softly. “You had The Machine’s mind in your own brilliant one. You were, essentially, The Machine’s voice. It’s body. An true Interface,” He let out a loud sigh and continued, “You were so threatening, so destructive. I wanted nothing but to get rid of you. I tried to hide you. And so I put you here,”

Root let out a sadistic chuckle and tilted her head to the side. “I remember this story, Harry. It doesn’t end too happy,”

“That’s the thing, Miss Groves. This story is not done yet. Shaw may very well be still alive,”

The hacker let out a heavy breath as she ran her fingers against the tray of food. “You don’t believe that. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have given up on her,” Anger now found a way into her voice. “She needs us, Harry, and yet all you do is sideline me and force me not to go,” 

“You can go, Miss Groves. You can run into the heart of Samaritan with guns blazing, but it will only lead in your demise. I’m trying to keep you safe,” he waited a moment. “I took the liberty of reading over your research… I’d feel very much better if, instead of you running this suicide missions and torture sessions by yourself, you take a higher road with John and I at your side. Together, we will find her,” He paused, meeting her eyes with his own. “You are a strong, capable woman, Miss Groves. I have no doubt you most likely can and will tear apart Samartin by yourself. However, the point of matter is that you don’t have to. You are not alone,”

Before she could stop herself, Root let out a sob like it had been building up for a while, Harold placed a hand on her shoulder, but before he could object to any more contact, she leaned into him and let her friend soak up her pain like a sponge. “Thank you,” she managed to say. 

He was quiet for a long moment. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No,” she mumbled, pushing him away as she stood. “Later, maybe,”

“Okay, Miss Groves. I shall wait,”

\---

They worked on The Machine with newfound determination. To find Sameen, they would need her help and She would give it, otherwise her precious Analog Interface planned to swan dive off a building or, at least, threaten to. (Root, for good reason, didn’t reveal this to Finch.)

They spent hours working - Finch at his desk in his swivel chair, hunched over his keyboard with Root beside him with her feet kicked up and a laptop humming on her lap. And soon, they fell into a nice groove - 

Root would come early in the morning and start working. (It wasn’t like she was doing anything.) Finch would come by and stay for a few hours, bringing her coffee and an apple. He’d have to leave to keep his cover as the professor she enjoyed seeing him. She’d work throughout the day, nursing her coffee. Reese, and sometimes Fusco, came in with strange cuts on their cheeks from working Numbers and bring her food. He knew if he didn’t, she’d never eat, so he made it a habit to always stop by no matter what was happening. By then, it was only two hours until Finch came back with a briefcase and a stack of papers in hand to grade. Root would spend her last two unsupervised hours taking a break and looking at Shaw’s passports that were supposed to be hidden from her. By the time she heard Bear’d pads moving frantically in Finch’s direction (like some sort of warning for her) she’d stash them back where she found them with a faux smile in place to welcome him. He always eyed her suspiciously, but never brought it up. For that, she was thankful. They’d work and work and sometimes, he’d let her play some music to drown out the sound of fingers tapping keys. And sometimes, she’d let him play some of his music - classical music that she occasionally took a liking too. They’d bicker sometimes and take to opposite ends of the subway. Sometimes, they’d take a long break and share stories of their past. (“Miss Groves, I do not enjoy hearing you so wistfully recollect your past endeavors. Especially when they’re about murder.”) She always shared small, seemingly insignificant snippets of Samantha Groves. They were never huge details about her life, but small things like her favorite ice cream flavor or the first time Hanna gave her a bottle of black nail polish or her favorite book. Finch would do the same, talking about cars and how he birdwatched. It was never anything big, but for them, just voicing such information demonstrated how strong their bond was. They worked until he’d fall asleep peacefully - exhausted from two job - and Reese would carry him home, but not before he wished her a good night. She’d stay up a bit and continue before she’d give up and leave. Some nights, she’d stop at the diner and order food she had no intention to eat. Other nights, she’d wander around New York a bit, thinking about things, and letting her feet move her. 

But no matter what, she always headed home. 

\---

Her first real smile was when they finally got The Machine operational again. The second was when they found a lead.

(“Sameen, I’m coming for you.”)

\---

“Miss Groves, are you _eating_ on my desk?”

While The Machine was operational, She still needed some work and Finch allowed Root to do so. Unsupervised. The amount of trust he had in her sometimes overwhelmed her. 

She stopped, and turned around slowly, with her mouth full of apple. She shook her head before swallowing hard. 

He moved forward and quickly examined to see if she had left a mess but paused in realization. “Did Mr. Reese give you that?”

“No,” the hacker responded nonchalantly. She returned her attention to the screen ignoring her friend’s curious gaze. “I picked some up from the store and brought one from home,” She took another bite and glanced up at the man.

She had never seen Harold smile so wide.

\---

Root marched through the Decima base with Reese at her side and Lionel behind him. Her two guns remained perfectly still. 

_10 o’clock._

“It’s good to have you back,” Root practically purred, leading the boys like she always did. This was the fourth base they had stormed in the span of two weeks - base they found when Root finally got her hands on a very cooperative agent. (The Machine refused to help, insisting stopping this “madness” led to the best outcome.) 

“Now, would you like to tell me where to go?” She smirked as directions rattled in her ear. Behind her Lionel yawned loudly. And it took a great deal of effort for Root to stop herself from doing the same. Exhaustion lingered among them all, but they didn’t dwell on it. 

“Thanks for directions, sweetie,”

Fusco scratched his head in confusion. “Wait. Wait. Who she talkin’ to again?”

“A friend,” Reese grinned slightly. He looked to the woman expectantly as she scanned the hallways. 

“Control room is that way. Lionel you’re with me. Reese, you stay here and lead the people out,” she demanded. The boys agreed. After all, The Machine was always right. 

She moved to a digital control panel and opened it carefully. The detective stuck close to her as she began punching in keys aggressively. 

“Take it down a notch, Nutella. We got time,” 

“Shaw certainly doesn’t,” Root snapped. Fusco was wise enough to leave her be. Instead, he moved to the doorway with his gun extended and aimed for anyone who dared mess with them. 

When she finished with the line of code she ran to the cop’s side. “We should get out here. I just took down the cameras so both Gods are blind,” 

“Gods?” Lionel stammered and Root cursed herself for forgetting that Fusco was left in the dark about The Machine for a reason. “Thought you weren’t the religious type?”

“I’m...” She searched for some excuse, but ending up just shaking her head and throwing her hands up as if she was surrendering. “You know what? We don’t have time for this. I’ll explain some other time. For now, we’ve got to get to containment center downstairs. If they have Shaw, that’s where she’ll be,” Her eyes must have been ablaze with unreadable anger, because Lionel nodded hastily and kept quiet for the first time in a while.

\---

The basement was abnormally creepy, but entirely fitting for a Decima base with flickering lights and strange moans coming from the rooms on the left and right of the two. Root knew very well that these were other victims of Samaritan. She swung the first door open and cut the man free from the metal chair, ignoring as he praised her. She had gotten used to this. She had gotten used to be the hero for these poor souls who ended up locked away, but she wasn’t the hero for the woman who truly matter to her - Sameen. Part of her wanted to just run through the hall, pressing her face against the glass to see what tortured soul remained there and only open when her dark eyes found a set she desperately begged to see, but she couldn’t bare to leave the prisoners. They could be someone’s Sameen. 

She moved left and right, opening doors carefully and searching the room for any sort of roommate before severing the ties or picking the locks or simply breaking any device that kept the person from escaping. Fusco followed but was careful not to interrupt.

He had seen her do this many times now. He had seen the way her eyes glistened with slight hope every time her slender fingers reached for another doorknob. 

“One more left,” she said to no one in particular. She opened the door carefully, eyes beginning to tear up at the very sight of brown hair. 

The woman before her was turned the other way and hunched over, wearing a dark tank top that revealed thick scars running alongside her spine. 

“S-Sameen?”

The woman turned slowly at her as Root sucked in a deep breath letting hope fill her lungs instead of oxygen, but that hope dissipated quickly. 

The woman before her was not Sameen. She was just another stranger. Another pointless stranger.

“Am I free?”

Root remained still, trying to open her mouth to speak, but no words formed - something that was very new.

She didn’t know if it was her half-deafness, but the world seemed infinitely quieter. Even Lionel’s voice as he said, “You’re safe now. Go on ahead. A broody looking fella will lead you out upstairs,” and the sounds of the woman’s bare feet padding against the tile floor barely registered in her ear.

“Cocoa Puffs, you alright?” He moved towards her but was careful not to touch her. “Partner,” He pressed his fingers against his ear, speaking to Reese through the comm link. “Downstairs is cleared, but, uh, Root isn't looking too good,” He stood in front of her, moving his hand around his face. “Hey, you in there?”

“Yeah…” She murmured. She blinked a few times before heading upstairs. Her movements were sluggish though and she almost didn't notice the man behind her until she heard a shot being fired. She spun around and was thankful it was Fusco who had fired.

He raised the gun slightly and smiled, “I got your back,” She smiled back gratefully. “Now lead the way. And don't go all spacey on me,”

“Okay,” She moved forward and ignored the tears welling in her eyes.

\---

“She can't keep doing this, Glasses. She starts improving and then she's getting all mopey again. This isn't alright,”

“We all want what's best for Miss Groves, Detective, but I fear telling her to abandon this plan would ruin her and, not only that, but force her to isolate herself so that she may continue this,” There was a short pause. “This way we may have some influence in exactly what happens to Miss Groves’s missions. We can ensure her protection - something The Machine is not capable of doing just yet,”

“I don't know. Fusco may be right, Finch. I get this is what she wants, but...it isn't good for her,”

“John, would you rather Miss Groves go into Decima bases alone? She needs us the same way we need her. Ignoring that fact would be dire in our current situation,”

Root looked up briefly from the subway cart, listening to the boys whisper about her with a little help from The Machine. 

She bowed her head down and returned to tending her wound, murmuring softly to Her. “I don't care what they're saying. We need Shaw to win. You know that don't you? We need her. And I'm not going to stop, so you better help out more. Giving us the location of the asylum was good, but I need more,” She sighed softly, looking at the camera on the computer before her. “Please. _I need her_ ,” She waited for a moment expecting a response to never come.

Until it did.

In the form of an address 

\---

It was all a blur. A blur of crimson, bullets, and tears. She remembered certain things - putting three bullets into the chest of Jerry Lambert, smashing a Samaritan agent’s head into the wall, and opening a silvery door to see the small sleeping form of a beautiful woman. 

Sameen. 

She remembered rushing forward, ignoring the bullets ripping through the air. She remembered pressing her fingers against the unconscious woman, searching desperately for a pulse. She remembered John sprinting to her side, firing at the door way. “We have to go!” She had nodded. 

It was John who picked Sameen up and as he did, Root caught sight of the damage done to her - thick scars marked her skin, ugly bruises from beating… And suddenly, Root was shooting at the agents with only one thing in mind - vengeance. Vengeance for Sameen. She protected John and Sameen and followed them carefully, shouting instructions as her God dished them out, as they snaked through the facility. They ran out, breathing heavily, and listening to the sound of gunfire aimed in their direction. A bullet found its way into her flesh, but she couldn’t feel a thing, because all she could focus on was Shaw’s sleeping form. 

Root woke up in a dark SUV with a thick bandage wrapped around her upper arm and Sameen’s warm body pressed against her. 

Finch turned to look at her carefully from the safety of the passengers’ seat. “Are you alright, Miss Groves? I patched you up as best I could,” 

“I’m fine, Harry,” Her voice was almost dream-like as she ran her fingers through the other woman’s dark hair. She realized that everything she had done, everything she had gone through, was entirely worth it for this single moment. She looked up slowly and met his eyes with a look of gratitude. “Thank you,”

“I knew you’d find her. With our help, The Machine’s, or by yourself, I knew you’d find her,” He looked back at the road. His lips quirked into a lopsided smile. “You always were a determined one, Root,” 

Root pressed her lips into a small smile.

\---

Sameen Shaw woke up in a hospital bed in a safe house she recognized from her dreams. The room was almost entirely empty, at least that’s what she believed, until her eyes fell to the chair on her right side where a certain hacker was resting, seemingly uncomfortably. She was thinner than Shaw remembered, but there was a small smirk on her restful face that made her forget it all. 

She listened to the beeping of the EKG machine. She listened to the soft breath of Root and watched as her chest rose and fell. She leaned her back into her pillow and fell asleep knowing everything was finally going to be okay again.

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to give me a prompt or just say hi, I'm thingsjustgotreallygay on tumblr


End file.
